Pandemonium
by deadlynyghtlock
Summary: Chaos in a container, waiting to break out. Completely OC. Only thing that corresponds


Sometimes, a person is stretched to their limits, stretched to the point where they're at a breaking line, shattered and insane, and become one of three Insanities: the Amnesia, the Paths or the Enigmas. There are no ways to come back after certain points, no way to know who you are anymore. The person you once were is gone, and you are but a lifeless husk being possessed by a twisted and warped spirit.

The Amnesias forget completely who they are, where they are or what they are. They tend to rattle off nonsense, and blindly attack most of the time, settling down at random times. Those possessed by ghosts or spirits often fall under this category, controlled either by a Path or stronger Amnesias. Amnesias are former people who witnessed something tragic and wish to bury it down, forgetting everything and imagining a different place.

The Paths are named from the words 'sociopath' and 'psychopath'. They are the deranged Insanities, the ones who feed off the pain of their victims. Paths are exactly aware of what they are doing. The cause of becoming a Path is being inflicted too much pain, whether it is emotional, mental or physical. Their first victim is often the one who broke them, undergoing the same pain that caused the turn. The death of their assailant will be the final point, after which their assailants' personality will override their own, and the Insanity will become a true Path.

The Enigmas are a mystery, as their name depicts. These Insanities are cunning, and know exactly how to hide their instability. Staring at them is not enough; Enigmas can blend in perfectly with a crowd, and there will be times when someone perfectly stable will be labeled insane, when the Insanity is right next to them, or even being the one who drags them away…

Waking up anymore was normality. Opening my eyes to the same grey speckled ceiling, to the same peeling brown wallpaper, to no one beside me in the bed except empty air was, at the very least, daunting. The same apartment, small, barely a place to call home, was beginning to be my prison, complete with horrible mush for food and my own personal jailer. And she would never shut up. Don't get me wrong; I love my mother, but ever since Dad took off, I was the target of her rage, and it led to the point to where I jumped out the fire escape to go to school. Breakfast was bought with the money I made being box boy at Wal-Mart. Whoops, sorry, _stocker_. Yes, that made me feel exactly the same as being box boy. Lunch was provided by my heterosexual life partner, Alphonse. Al knew exactly how home life was going, and often let me crash on his futon when Mother was on a morphine-fueled twenty-six hour nap. Unlike my mother, Mrs. Strider knew how to take care of a child even when their father left, though her circumstances were much worse, as Al's dad had died of complications due to a heart bypass two years earlier in 8th grade. Somehow, Al made it through and was still one of the happy-go-luck people I knew. I, on the other hand, was a constant worrier, a timid and shy creature that was…friend-zoned, I believe the term is, by girls. I kept my head low, sometimes my hand went up to answer the right questions, but for the most part, I was the kid who blended into the background, and I was more than happy to fill that role.

The only salvation I had were my grades. Once I was done with this year, Al and I were heading out to California for Berkeley, where I had a promising new start and Al had promising leads for journalism, the only love in his life. Al was determined to get us out there, if not for he, then for me. I wasn't too sure what I wanted. Perhaps it was just to get out of that godforsaken town. Perhaps it was time for me to live, instead of being chained down to my mother's wants and needs.

Perhaps I was simply selfish.

But after all, I was human.

Wasn't I?

The day of graduation came. That morning, I bolted out the escape, metal creaking treacherously at my landing. I climbed down the ladder and landed well enough, having a bit of shock in my ankles tingling at my bones. Running down ten blocks, every breath felt clearer, every blink made my vision brighter. When I knocked on Al's front door, he opened it right away. He had this grin on his face; he was just as excited as I was for leaving. "You ready to leave this jail cell?"

"I love you too, Alphonse Christian Strider." Mrs. Strider came into sight, holding a basket filled with nothing but dirt-covered clothes that belonged to her son. She nodded to the basket. "This was on the floor of your room. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I…uhm…I plead the fifth?" I sincerely doubted that court terms used as a joke would help in this case. When his mother got mad, her fury snapped like a whip with the power of a hurricane. It was an emotion that had beauty, a black widow kind of beauty,

She gave him the profile of her face and her mouth was twisted in a scowl. He recoiled, and then the scowl turned into a grin not unlike her son's. "I'll get it washed for you, my little college boy. Just make sure not to get anything on your graduation gown."

Al relaxed against the door jamb and motioned for me to come in. "Get in here, man. I've been dying of boredom." I stepped through, the cool air enveloping me from the living room. It was cozy, and I wanted to fall asleep right on my feet. Al gripped me under my upper arm and led me into the kitchen. I scrambled onto a stool and tucked my head into my folded arms, closing my eyes for a bit of a power nap. After counting about five hundred sheep jumping over the wooden fence, I felt something cool and smooth bump my arm. I lifted my head to see a plate covered in lasagna, sided with salad drizzled with Thousand Island. My mouth watered and I grabbed the fork that had been placed along with it, slicing my first bite hastily. I swallowed and let out a small sigh, then said "Thank you," to Mrs. Strider.

She walked over and placed her hand on my forehead, smiling with a hint of sadness. "Did you leave a note for your mother?" This question only surprised me a little. Mrs. Strider knew the condition of my mother's mind, and had tried to form any kind of relationship. After the third try, and one of our 'precious' vases thrown and broken, Mrs. Strider had decided that perhaps my mother didn't want a friend. I had told her as much, but my words had fallen to selective ears. Mrs. Strider had the type of mentality that never gave way. She was stubborn, to put it simply, and even she had used the word to describe herself.

I nodded and took another bite, tasting a little of my guilt in the pasta. Her hand fell away, and she nodded in understanding. Al came in and slid a box my way. "When you're done eating, try it on. I wanna see if they fit. Last year's gowns came at different lengths, and Principal Keiser was _pissed_."

"Are you suggesting that you wish to see our dear principal in an all caps-lock rage?" I gave Al a quizzical look, even though both of us would die to see our ever-calm principal and disciplinary pissed off beyond all reason.

"I'm suggesting if they're even, your clothing class will come in handy for the hack job I'm going to do to them." He sat opposite of me, and behind him, his mother with a disapproving look. She looked at me and I shrugged. Alphonse had the same stubborn streak as his mother; I had never been able to talk him out of any of his mischievous pranks. All I could do was take cover and pray by an act of God that I was not punished for any of it. But somehow, somehow, Alphonse rarely ever was caught. Circumstantial evidence pointed to a certain boy, but they could never pry a confession out of the guilty. And when they had a few witnesses, they always somehow managed to be looking the other way when things happened.

"Alright, but only so that they're higher; I don't want flame designs on my graduation gown." I finished the plate and washed it, setting it in the dish drainer. I gave him a look then opened the box. Silver silk popped out at me. At least we were getting our hundred and forty dollars' worth. I pulled it out and over my head. It smelled nice, and the feel against my bare skin was quite nice. I straightened it out, dark blue velvet following my hands' movement. Mrs. Strider straightened the back of my collar and Al handed me my cap. I pulled it over my head and went into the living room to look at the wide mirror set up above their dressers out there.

I was the quite the sight. The cap covered my inky black hair, and my father's green eyes reflected back at me. Alphonse walked in, dressed in the same attire. Mrs. Strider came and I saw motherly tears fall from her eyes. "Oh, Al, your father would be so proud." The words not only affected Alphonse, but also me.

Would my father have been proud of who I was, what I had become? But a more cynical and unforgiving thought entered my mind…

Did his opinion really matter after all these years?

A poisonous thought that could spread throughout my mind was now planted; a thought that rattled inside my mind for a long time.

"River Adrian Patterson."

The steps up shook me. I was close, so close to getting out. Out of Riverdale, out of Hell. Principal Keiser gave me my diploma and shook my hand. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes held a certain tone of anger. I smiled innocently and walked over to all the other graduates. I felt an arm yank me through the abyss of people and Alphonse covered me in a bear hug. "We're out, man! We're on our way!" Despite the earlier thoughts I had, I couldn't help but to grin. We really were out and on our way.

After watching everyone file through, Principal Keiser started to announce "Congratulations, class of 20-"

Then that's when two little kids, both boys, streaked across the stand, stark naked. It took me a few seconds before I placed their faces, then I turned to Al and grinned. "How much did you pay your cousins?"

"Twenty each. Worth it. Definitely worth it." We fistbumped each other as we heard everyone around us cheer and laugh. Keiser stood with his mouth agape, as two male teachers ran after the Strider cousins. I shook my head and sighed in relief. We were out.

We were finally out.


End file.
